Disclaimer: Skyrim doesn't belong to me, nor do I intend to profit from this work of fiction.

"So, you are the Dovahkiin everyone is talking about," Vilkas asked gruffly as the tall, slender Nord slid onto the bench next to him, a full cup of mead in her hands.

She cocked her head to the side as she studied the wary man next to her, "Yes. Adalhejd Folkvar. And you are...?" she asked, her voice lilting as she spoke, carrying a hint of some foreign land.

"Vilkas," he replied, his tone terse as he took her measure. "I have my eye on you, whelp." His tone conveyed a warning, but she just smiled at him, a sly eyebrow raised before she looked away, watching the goings-on of the other Companions.

"You think I'm not worthy?" she asked, her tone not quite haughty, but her pride rang true as she tossed her long blonde braid over her shoulder.

"It is not that, I simply choose to reserve judgment," he replied, and he couldn't decide if he imagined the slightest quirk of her full lips. This Dragonborn had swept into Jorrvaskr, and taken the mead hall of the Companions by storm. He had sparred with her once, and had to admit she had skill, if she was still a bit unpolished yet. He had no doubts she would be a formidable warrior, but his instincts told him she was a stealthy one, better with a bow than her sword.

She rolled her eyes at him, and shook her head, "I'm for bed. Killing bandits is hard work at times, and I need my rest."

She headed for the front door, and he surprised himself when his animal nature growled, and he sprang to his feet, hurrying to catch up to her. "You will not bunk here?" he queried, a strong hand lightly gripping her wrist.

"Is that an invitation?" she asked, her husky voice rising to his ears, his nose picking up the spicy scent of her arousal. He blinked at her, suddenly uncertain, his pants growing suspiciously tighter. "Ah, well," she drawled, and he swore he heard a hint of disappointment, the corner of her lips twitching with a smile, "If it is not, I'm going to sleep in my own bed. It is more comfortable, but unfortunately not as warm."

His sharp hearing picked up the steady increase of her pulse as they stood together in the doorway of Jorrvaskr, and it took all of his willpower not to lock her body to his, and he felt the roaring of his beast blood in his ears, and the effort he expended to peel his reluctant fingers from her wrist was palpable between them. He blew out a breath, and his silver eyes flashed, "I will escort you to your home. No woman needs to travel alone through the streets this late at night."

She bit her bottom lip, and nodded casually, amused when he opened the door for her. She held her tongue until they were at the bottom of the stairs leading to Jorrvaskr. "But who will protect me from the Big Bad Wolf?" she drawled, a smug smile gracing her lips.

She heard his breath hiss between his teeth, and felt his hands grip her arms as he shoved her roughly against a nearby wall, his peculiar silver eyes boring into hers. "Tell me what you know," he demanded, his mouth just inches from hers.

She glared back at him, fascinated by his rough treatment of her, and a slick coil of lust curled deep in her belly, and she felt herself growing damp. She say the anger in his gaze slowly change to confusion as her scent rose to his sensitive nose.

"What is this witchcraft?" he asked gruffly, lowering his lips to hover just above hers. "What is this spell you've cast over me?"

"I have no idea what you speak of. Maybe you should follow your nose," she suggested slyly, and he didn't care for the implication that she knew of his affliction.

"What are you about?" he grunted savagely before he crushed his mouth to hers, his teeth biting at her lips until he tasted the coppery tang of her blood in his mouth; dragging a ragged moan from her throat as his hands shifted, one buried in her hair, mussing the thick tresses, the other wrapped around her waist pulling her flush against his chest.

Distantly, he felt her hands roughly pulling on his hair as his tongue swept across her lips to dance with hers, teasing, stroking, driving her wild. Her hips rubbed against his, his erection painful behind the thick plate of armor he wore. Her scent was making him mad, and his beast blood was howling for release, his control of his animal nature tenuous at best.

He ripped his lips away from hers, and jumped away from her, his chest heaving as he ruthlessly tamped down his animal nature. "Leave," he grunted, and heard the noise of protest she made as she stepped closer to him. "Be gone, or I will not be responsible for my actions."

Her blue eyes flashed, "Maybe that is what I want. Maybe I want the big, bad Vilkas to lose his legendary control." She leaned into him, her lips brushing against his ear, "To be nothing more than a rutting beast." She pulled away from him when he said nothing, and heard his teeth grinding together as his jaw bulged, and his hands fisted at his sides.

"Do not test me," he murmured quietly, dangerously. Her hand drifted over his chest, and she started when he gripped her wrist, holding her away from him. The magnetism between them seemed to snap and spark, and he could smell her intense arousal, her heart beating a staccato in his ears, her chest seeming to heave with every breath she took.

At length, she forced herself to relax, and raised an eyebrow in question, asking him to release her without saying a word. She stepped away, and glanced to her right as a guard approached them. "All is well, we have no need of your assistance," she called, and waved him off, knowing it was best that no mere mortal approach Vilkas while he was in this state.

She turned on her heel, and called over her shoulder, "I'll take my leave," and she turned to face him, still walking backwards away from him, "But this is far from over, víkja."

He blinked in surprise; certain he had heard her wrong. He was no one's subordinate, and as he opened his mouth to reply, he realized she had sauntered off. He ground his teeth together again. This was far from over.

víkja – subordinate